


Tired of this body (Fall apart without me)

by dumbasswlw



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: :), Angst, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Good Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. BODY HORROR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Cuddling, Temporary Character Death, Video Game Mechanics, because of, because of dream/rp, the butcher army + ghostbur are here but not enough for a character tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbasswlw/pseuds/dumbasswlw
Summary: December 16th, but slightly to the left.What if Technoblade didn't have the Totem of Undying? How could he possibly survive then?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, dont ship them. please dont report my work for not shipping a minor and an adult
Comments: 29
Kudos: 344





	Tired of this body (Fall apart without me)

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOO OKAY
> 
> Title - Body by Mother Mother
> 
> alright here we go!! thank you so much oil and bee for letting me scream this idea at you. you guys encouraged me to actually write and finish this, and i'm so glad you did tbh,,

Technoblade should have expected his retirement to be cut short.

Between his father still living part-time in L’Manberg, and his twin’s ghost constantly wandering between the lands, it was only a matter of time before his location was revealed. 

The piglin hybrid watches from the window in disbelief as Ghostbur points the _literal army_ in the direction of his house. The four L’Manbergians turn towards the humble cottage, weapons and armor glinting menacingly in the early morning light. 

_Fight, Fight. Blood, Blood, Hurt, Blood for the Blood God,_ the voices scream. 

Techno scrambles around the chest room, desperately trying to prepare for a 4v1. Logically, he knows everything he needs, but in his panic riddled state, he struggles to remember the exact ingredients he needs to brew the correct potions.

With a final glance over at his weapons and armor, he strides into the snow, confidence seeping from every bone in his body. In reality, he’s far from positive. Even with his proficiency in combat, he’s had only minutes to prepare, and due to his retirement, he hasn’t fought a player in over a month. That’s not even mentioning that all four players are wearing full enchanted netherite, but he digresses. 

As a last ditch effort to avoid any bloodshed, Techno attempts to lighten the mood with small talk. He fails, obviously, because he’s the least social person on the SMP. 

_Fuck it._

If the Butcher Army came looking for a fight, then a fight is what they’re gonna get. The pigman inches away when no eyes are on him, downs the few potions he was able to grab, and lets his hybrid instincts take over. 

Techno comes to crouched over a body, another laying similarly still in the snow a couple blocks away. 

_Unconscious, not dead,_ the voices grumble at him. He, surprisingly, feels a sliver of relief, but it vanishes as soon as it arrives when looks up.

Quackity has stolen Carl, his best friend, from his stable. The nineteen year old is holding a dagger to the horse’s neck, and is yelling something, probably a demand, but Techno can’t hear him.

All he can hear is Carl’s terrified squeals. No wait, there’s something else. What is it-?

Oh. Chat. 

There’s so many voices, so much noise, that he attempts to alleviate the pain by clamping hooved hands over his ears. It does nothing, except give his enemies an upper hand. 

Both Fundy and Tubbo have woken up, and have joined Ranboo in pointing their weapons at him. 

“-Drop everything. Everything, _on the floor._ Or the fucking horse gets it.” Chat quiets just enough for the hybrid to make out Quackity’s words. 

They begin to roar again after hearing the words. Half are demanding more blood, while the other half urge him to give in. 

The standoff only lasts for a few more minutes, before Techno reluctantly starts removing his armor. Once all of his hard work is sitting in a sad pile in the snow, he raises his arms hesitantly in surrender. 

The army starts to cheer, disbelieving voices high with excitement. Tubbo starts to collect all of the weapons and potions, while Ranboo steps forward to grab the pieces of armor. The enderman hybrid sends Techno a sad glance, but it happens so quickly he wouldn’t be surprised if his tired mind made it up.

Quackity hops onto Carl, and begins to lead the army (plus hostage) back to their country.

The trip is a blur of loud voices and strong emotions. Technoblade has trouble distinguishing the external voices from the internal ones, so he doesn’t even bother. 

He watches blankly as the tall buildings of L’Manberg come into view. It’s with the same monotone that he willingly steps into the cage they’ve prepared for him, acceptance already setting in.

He’s not even sure if he’ll respawn. Technically he’s more mob than player, and he’s never died before, so there’s no way to know if he’ll have three lives like everyone else.

The piglin hybrid sees both Phil and Ghostbur from the corner of his eye, looking horrified and confused respectively. Tommy is nowhere to be seen, of course, but Techno can’t help but miss his little brother. If he’s really about to die like the L’Manbergians claim he will, then his last wish is to see all of his family together, alive, and happy.

Impossible now, he knows, but sometimes it’s nice to hope. 

While staring up at the contraption that will soon cause his downfall, Techno misses the exact moment things start to go awry.

One moment he’s lamenting his entire existence, the next one of Dream’s men is planting TNT on the stage and punching the president, effectively interrupting the grand speech. 

There’s yelling, _more yelling,_ god why can’t anyone shut up today? The noises grate on his ears, because it’s so, so _loud-_

There’s the click of a lever from his left, the sound of redstone powering up, pistons shifting, _something falling directly towards him._

Phil screams, Quackity cheers, a couple people shout different things, and Chat _screeches._

Techno, forgetting his tough guy bravado, curls into himself. He falls to his knees, throws his arms above his head, and hopes it’s quick.

There’s a crushing pain on the left side of his ribs, but it fades in moments, replaced by nausea. The hybrid’s world spins dizzily, and he starts to shake uncontrollably.

It passes quickly, thank whatever deity, and Techno gingerly lifts the anvil from where it landed on his back. He pays no attention to the injury, instead focusing on the fact that he can climb over the iron bars from on top of the deadly falling block. 

He spots Carl in the distance, Dream holding the reins, and makes a break for it.

The voices are screaming again, but Techno can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. One of the louder ones is overjoyed that the horse is safe, while the rest just chant, _Technoblade Never Dies!_ and, _Blood for the Blood God!_

Techno doesn’t care how, he’s just focused on getting Carl back home. He throws on the iron armor he found, because honestly, it’s better than nothing. The only weapon he has is the pickaxe he managed to hide while being mugged, but for once, he doesn’t feel like fighting anyone. He just wants to go home.

He starts to carve out a bigger pathway for Carl to get through, but is interrupted halfway when footsteps sound through the blackstone room. Technoblade turns towards the sound, pickaxe gripped tight in his hands. 

“How the fuck did you do it?” Quackity demands, “How the hell did that anvil not kill you?”

The pinkette laughs, despite being confused himself. “Did you really think you could kill me that easily? You think death can stop me, Quackity?” Techno starts to back away, intent on leaving with no blood spilled. He’s still supposed to be retired, after all.

Quackity smiles, an awful, malice filled thing, “I’m going to fucking kill you, Technoblade,” his voice dramatically drops in pitch, emotion completely gone.

The hybrid is already working on blocking himself away from Quackity, but the younger man swings his axe at him, getting a lucky hit on his arm.

Technoblade’s sight goes _red._

The next thing he knows, he’s splashing more potions on himself, and swinging the netherite pickaxe at his opponent. Chat cheers excitedly, happy in the way only blood makes them. 

Even with the dramatic disadvantage Techno has with his laughably weak armor and tools, his bloodlust allows him to emerge victorious. 

Quackity’s items and armor lay abandoned at Techno’s feet, the L’Manbergian in question’s body vanishing in a cloud of smoke only moments prior. The nineteen year old eventually succumbed to his multiple stab wounds, leaving him with only one life left. 

The pigman grabs the half broken netherite armor that was left behind, and starts to equip it. He steps over the rest of the items, finishes digging out a pathway for Carl, and heads home. 

Techno feels strangely calm while he feeds his horse friend, but he brushes it off as leftover shock from almost dying. He slowly shuts the stable gate, and gives Carl one last pat on his mane. 

Heading inside, he begins to dig through his chests for medical supplies, ignoring the many, many misplaced items. Once he has everything he needs, he climbs the ladder all the way up to his bedroom.

He starts with the first wound he can see, which happens to be the first Quackity left on his arm. The pinkette begins to pour the healing potion over the wound, but stops in a matter of seconds. 

He pulls the pink bottle away with a hiss, watching in mounting pain and horror as his skin bubbles and dissolves under the liquid. 

The voices begin to get loud. _What? Why? Pain, Blood, Bad blood, Heal?_

“I don’t know, shut up,” he grumbles back. Maybe that was just a bad potion. If he brews some more, carefully, it’ll be fine. He grabs water bottles, a nether wart, a glistering melon, and begins to slowly make new potions of healing.

But the new potions do the exact same thing. They harm him, where they usually heal. He took extra care to make sure he didn’t mess these potions up. They should work perfectly fine. 

He looks back down at the wound, which stopped hurting a couple minutes ago. It’s starting to look slightly green around the edges, which is not good _at all._ Techno rips the stolen armor off of his body, and his extra clothing follows soon after. 

He takes in a shaky, horrified breath at what he finds. 

The wound from the anvil is also green, but that’s not what he’s focused on. The flesh on the left side of his chest is completely gone. He can clearly see his actual ribs, and what resides under them.

His heart has ceased all motion. It looks vaguely gray, and it sits unsettlingly still. His lungs are largely the same. They move when he manually takes a breath, but he doesn’t actually need the oxygen he consumes.

The anvil killed him. He died, and he didn’t respawn. 

_Undead!_ a voice screams. _Potion of harming,_ some whisper. _Hubert!!_ more chant.

Right. He still had leftover harming potions from when he and Phil transported the jack o lantern mobs.

Shakily, he makes his way to his storage room again, only this time extremely aware of his open chest wound. It doesn’t hurt at all, whether from the zombification or the adrenaline, he’s not sure. 

Luckily enough, he has a surplus of the wine red potions, so he brings armfuls back upstairs with him. The harming potions smell as acidic as they always have, but when he pours them on his wounds, the skin begins to knit itself back together.

Techno watches in sick fascination as his ribs slowly become less and less visible. His flesh is still green on some of the worst spots, no matter how much of the liquid he pours, but he looks relatively normal.

Well, he’s hyper aware of his motionless heart and useless lungs, but at least he’s not completely dead. 

_Undead!!_ Chat cheers again. _Technodead! Zombieblade! Like Hubert!_ The voices are incredibly happy. They got blood earlier, and they’ve come up with a new nickname for him. He wants to be annoyed, he really does, but he’s always been fond of Chat. They’re like a swarm of little ducklings, and sometimes they give him useful advice. 

The (zombie) piglin hybrid passes out around 3AM, exhausted from the incredibly stressful and confusing day he’s had.

\---

Technoblade wakes up a few hours later to movement in his base. 

At first, he reasons that it’s most likely Phil. Then, he remembers that his father is stuck on house arrest back in L’Manberg.

(He feels a surge of familiar anger. Despite none of them being biologically related, they’re family. Pack. He has to be saved.)

As quietly as he can, Techno sneaks down the ladder. He’s already thrown on his spare set of armor, and grabbed the pickaxe from under his bed, so he’s ready to fight if the need arrives. 

He’s prepared to find a mob, maybe even an enemy trying to kill him in his sleep, but instead he finds Tommyinnit, his baby brother, looking decidedly worse for wear. 

The boy’s clothes are horribly torn, his hair is greasy and flat, and his once lively blue eyes are a stormy gray. He’s munching on a golden apple, and Techno can see more stuffed in his pockets.

(He doesn’t feel the usual gold rage from the lost items. Will his instincts change, now that he’s zombified?)

“Toms?” He whispers, voice quiet with disbelief. 

The blond startles, then slowly looks up, dull eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Hey, Blade..” Tommy trails off.

Techno wants to _kill_ whoever made his brother this quiet. He wants to murder whoever gave him the hand shaped bruises on his arms. He wants to storm off right now, just to take all three of that green bastard’s lives.

But he doesn’t. All he does is step forward and wrap Tommy in a tight hug. 

The teenager freezes for a few seconds, then abruptly melts into the embrace. Techno can swear his (dead) heart shatters when Tommy’s shoulders start to shake with silent sobs. 

“Oh, sweetheart..” Techno mumbles, as the collar of his sleep shirt slowly gets soaked with tears. 

The hybrid doesn’t know how long the two brothers stand there, but eventually Tommy falls asleep. When Techno is sure the boy is completely asleep, he carefully brings the blond to the only bed in the house.

He’s fully prepared to just settle on the floor for the rest of the night, but Tommy sleepily grabs Techno’s shirt as he goes to pull away. There’s no possible way he can say no to his baby brother, so he slides in next to the boy, and holds him tight.

The voices are happier than they were earlier. They adore Tommy. _Baby! Tommy! Brother!!_ They’re whispering, as if afraid they’ll wake the boy in question. 

Tomorrow, Techno knows he’ll have to get the whole story out of the boy, feed him, and get him new clothes. He knows Tommy will be stubborn, and that he’ll fight his older brother the whole way, but eventually things will be okay.

Techno knows he still has a long way to go before his Pack is completely safe. His father is stuck on house arrest, and his twin is still a ghost of his former self, but with Tommy pressed close to his chest, Technoblade feels the smallest bit of hope bloom in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :] 
> 
> dont be weird about the petname. if u dont call your baby siblings petnames, then are you really siblings? /j
> 
> also mr technoblade! i have chosen to completely ignore what you said about the sleepy bois! sbi is still canon in my heart <3


End file.
